


Musical Motion

by yoshiimiitsu



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25989862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshiimiitsu/pseuds/yoshiimiitsu
Summary: A series of stories focused on Virgil Tracy and various antics with his brothers [re-posted + edited story from my previous account].
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	1. Flight [Skies/Scott]

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a repost from my old account, northkaii. The penname at the time of posting would have been iwazilla or fukurodaniace, I can't remember when I changed from one to the other. 
> 
> Anyway; here are a series of stories I wrote for Virgil Tracy week all the way back in 2016, edited and refreshed. TOS-based.
> 
>  **Prompts;** Skies/Stars/Music/Ocean/Heroes/Brothers/Change. I followed this in the order I view the brothers ages [Scott/John/Virgil/Gordon/Alan] as it fit so well with the prompts, with a sneaky Tin-Tin appearance in chapter 5. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** These lovely characters do not belong to me. That right goes to Gerry Anderson and family.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is concerned for Virgil's return to Thunderbird Two after it was recently shot down. Takes places after Terror in New York City.

Virgil leans against the railings marvelling at his ‘bird, admiring the fresh coat of paint Brains and Tin-Tin had worked tirelessly to replace. 

“She’s looking good huh?” 

Scott mimics Virgil’s actions, forearms resting against the rails as he glances over Thunderbird 2 next to his little brother. 

“She sure is,” Virgil replies, almost dreamily. “I can’t wait to test out some of the new systems Brains put in there.” 

Scott looks up in alarm, narrowing his eyes at Virgil. “That won’t be for a while though, will it?” 

Virgil, looking somewhat amused, stands up straight and makes a show of stretching his arms out. 

“Well,” he begins, smirking at his oldest brother. “Brains did tell me last weekend that I should leave it another few days. But I asked dad and they both gave me an all clear last night. Soooooo….”

“Absolutely not.” Scott turns, frowning, instead leaning back against the rails as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Virg it hasn’t been nearly long enough—”

“It’s been three weeks, actually.” 

“Which, like I said, is not nearly long enough! The crash knocked you on your ass for a week Virg – you had a concussion, the bruises and grazes. You’re not nearly fit enough to handle 2 on your own.” 

“You think I’d go on my own? Come on Scott, you know me better than that. I’ve already asked Gordon to come with me.”

“Gordon?!”

Virgil laughs, making his way back through the silo. “If you’ve got a problem with that, you can take it up with dad.” 

Scott scowls at his youngest brother’s back as he continues walking on, still laughing. Pulling the dad card is always a low blow. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s a good day for it, don’t you think Virg?”

“I sure do Gordon! Nice and bright.”

“You better take your sunglasses, don’t want to crash because the sun’s in your eyes!” 

“Will you two knock it off?”

Gordon gasps in mock hurt, covering his heart with his hands. 

“My dear Scott, I’m simply making sure our dear brother takes extra care of himself. I bet you wouldn’t remind him to take his glasses!”

Virgil shakes with silent laughter at the end of the table – the darkening expression on Scott’s face only making it worse while Gordon smirks across the table from him, pouring another glass of orange juice. He had known the redhead would do everything in his power to drive their oldest brother up the wall the day of the test flight.

“Poor dear Scott, you’re just upset because you’re not the chosen one."

“No, you’re just an annoying shitbag,” Scott shoots back.

That does it – Virgil howls with laughter, unable to contain himself. 

“Scott, no swearing at the table,” Jeff admonishes as he walks into the room, newspaper in hand. 

“Yeah Scott, no swearing at the table!” 

“Gordon, you be quiet and eat your breakfast. And Virgil,” he continues, glancing at his middle son as he sits at the end of the table. “Contain yourself. Honestly, you boys will be the death of me.”

“I mean that’s the best you could ask for really, given our line of work” Gordon replies, earning himself a smack to the head with the newspaper. Scott snorts into his juice.

“I trust the two of you are set?” Jeff asks, opening the paper and peering over the top to look at Virgil and Gordon. 

“Of course father,” Virgil replies, reaching for his toast. 

“When are we ever not ready?” Gordon asks. Jeff raises an eyebrow at him before turning his full attention to the paper. 

“As I’m scheduled for a meeting this afternoon, Scott will be monitoring the pair of you.”

“Scott?!” Gordon splutters. Scott smirks at the younger man, leaning back into his chair with his arms crossed as if this somehow accentuates their father’s point.

“Yes son, Scott. Is there a problem with that?” 

“Dad,” Gordon starts, giving his father a serious look. “The last thing Virgil needs is a mother hen squawking on comms.”

“I would have thought the last thing he needed was a fish splashing around his cockpit, actually,” Scott fires back. Gordon opens his mouth to retort but is swiftly cut off by his father. 

“That’s enough, both of you. I don’t want to hear any of this foolishness later on – you are to treat this seriously, as you would a rescue. Understood?” 

“Understood,” all three of them reply in unison, Gordon glaring at Scott in annoyance. The eldest simply smirks back triumphantly. Virgil shakes his head. Standing from the table he brushes himself off. 

“Well I’ll be with Brains if you need me. He wants to run through some of the new equipment again before we take off.”

“I’ll come with you!” Gordon replies, scrambling out of his seat to follow Virgil. Scott sighs, shaking his head as his brothers leave the kitchen. 

“I don’t know why we call Gords and Al the gruesome twosome. Those two cause far more trouble.” 

Jeff laughs, smiling at his eldest. “Only when you’re the focus of their attention son.” 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“This is Thunderbird 2, preparing for launch.” 

“F.A.B.” Scott sits by the window of the control room, watching as the palm trees fall to each side of the runway to allow Thunderbird 2 room to travel. He always finds himself astounded by 2; how such a colossal piece of machinery can glide along the runway with such grace before taking off into the air. He knows plenty about aircraft – as a pilot it’s impossible not to – but even so, he often finds himself wondering how the bird manages to keep itself in flight. 

As 2 reaches the end of the runway, launch pad rising to give it the appropriate angle for take-off, Scott calls into the radio. 

“You ready Virg?” 

“He was born ready!” Gordon shouts in the background, causing Virgil to sigh. Scott can imagine the expression on his brother’s face, mingled exasperation and amusement as he shakes his head. 

“Yeah. I’m ready.” 

“Alright,” Scott replies quietly, ignoring the anxious feeling in his gut. After all, the last time Virgil had been in Thunderbird 2 was when it was in flames on the runway – who wouldn’t feel nervous after an incident like that? “Clear for take-off.”

The noise of the thrusters firing is thunderous, smoke collecting quickly behind 2 as she slowly rises into the air from the launch pad. Scott watches, heart thundering in his chest, as Virgil smoothly pilots 2 higher and further from the island. His hands itch where he forcibly restrains himself from calling in, knowing it’s too soon. 

As Thunderbird 2 flies out of sight, becoming nothing more than a green speck in the sky, Scott can’t help himself. 

“Virgil? Report in.” 

“I’m fine Scott,” Virgil says reassuringly. “Everything’s running smoothly. Relax.”

“And the new systems? Everything’s working okay?” 

“Well we won’t know about some of them until we get further out.” 

“Further? How far are you going?” 

“Not far enough,” Virgil replies through gritted teeth, clearly irritated with the persistent questions. Scott catches the faint sound of Gordon sniggering in the background. 

“Scott, listen – everything will be fine. If you’re that nervous get Tin-Tin to make you some of that tea she always has to calm down.” 

Well, that isn’t such a bad idea – not that Scott was ready to admit to his nerves but Tin-Tin is the goddess of tea in their house. A mug of her tea is like a warm hug. 

“Hmm. I’m heading to the labs and then I’ll be back. Five minutes. You need anything, you call me.” 

“Yes dad!” Gordon calls. Scott rolls his eyes. All the same he makes his way out of the control room with one last glance at the sky, radio in hand.


	2. Too Late [Skies/John]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and John try to deal with the fallout of a difficult rescue. Collaborative work with my wonderful buddy Lu [lupotterblogs on tumblr], who drew the wonderful art that goes with the story.

Virgil leans his head against the glass separating his room from the balcony. A cool breeze lifts the hair from his brow and he closes his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of the island; gentle waves lapping against the shore, Kyrano humming pleasantly somewhere beneath him as he tends to his much loved garden. Distantly he hears a loud splash followed by the rapid movement of water – that would be Gordon, dealing with the fallout of a hard rescue the way he always does.

_The rescue._

Virgil frowns, opening his eyes and shifting uncomfortably. He stretches his legs out infront of him, one ankle crossed over the other, and gazes towards the sky. It’s a sea of colour; deep oranges and reds beneath light pinks and purples as the sun sets. The island itself is a sea of tranquillity – normally it’s so easy for him to get lost in its sights and sounds, often being chastised by Jeff for glancing out the window towards the sparkling blue sea instead of listening to new Thunderbird upgrade details. It’s so easy for Virgil to get lost in his own mind; half the reason he’s so talented in the arts, using music and paint to express himself more than he ever can with words.

But tonight, it seems nothing can take him away from his thoughts. The colours of the sky inspire nothing but violent flashbacks to the streams of crimson running along the ground, the screams and desperate cries for help. The hums beneath him, peaceful and innocent, bring the image of a sobbing mother cradling a broken child in her arms as she sings to him in desperation, almost as if she was singing him to sleep.

He stands quickly, reaching for the balcony railing as he squeezes his eyes shut against the images running through his mind. He holds the rail so tightly his knuckles turn white. Panic bubbles inside of him and he begins to breathe heavily, desperately trying to stave the feeling off.

_Stop it. Stop. There was nothing more we could have done. We did everything we could. Calm down._

A harsh buzzing from his room brings Virgil back into reality. He turns, glancing around his room for the source of the noise only to find his tablet vibrating so hard on the desk it’s close to falling off.

He dashes over to it, quickly picking it up to find an incoming call from John that he accepts just before the cut-off point. John watches in amusement on-screen as Virgil throws himself onto the bed, scrambling to find a decent seated position in amongst blankets and clothes. Grandma would kill him if she could see the state of the place.

“Catch you off guard little bro?”

“Something like that,” Virgil says in response, shifting the pillows on his bed so that they cushion his back. He sits with the tablet propped on his knees, one hand behind his head.

“So what’s up?”

“Just checking up on you,” John replies, placing his book to one side as he himself shifts to find a comfortable position in his chair. “It’s been pretty quiet since… well. Since everyone came home.”

“I… yeah.” Virgil rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing off towards the balcony door as he hears another distant splash from the pool. “Everyone’s just sorta… doing their own thing I guess. Sorry I didn’t get in touch earlier.”

John waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t be. I know debrief is hard enough, let alone clean up.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much dust in my life.”

The pair sit in silence for a moment, knowing what needs to be said but both unsure how to go about it. John – always the moral support – starts first, clearing his throat and looking knowingly at Virgil through the screen.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Virgil exhales, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I probably should, I guess. But,” he pauses, looking off to one side. “I don’t really know what to say. I don’t know what to do, really.”

John nods in understanding. “Probably one of the toughest we’ve handled to be honest.”

“No kidding,” he replies. Heavy footsteps pass his door, very likely Scott on his way to the gym. Virgil knows that a few rooms down Alan is with Tin-Tin, the pair disappearing quickly after de-brief. It was interesting, the different methods they used to cope.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk. Maybe we can just sit together for a while?”

“Yeah.” Virgil smiles at John, standing from the bed. “That’d be great actually.” He moves to the desk, propping the tablet up against the wall and reaching into the top drawer for his sketchbook and some pencils. John smiles back, re-opening his book as Virgil settles down cross-legged on the chair, pencil in hand.

Virgil has no idea how long they sit there, doing their own thing while still on call with each other. All he knows is that when his tablet beeps to let him know it’s running low on battery, the sun has fully set. Artificial light from the small lanterns Tin-Tin had kindly placed along each Tracy boy’s balcony pours into the room instead, illuminating it in rainbow colours – Virgil, ever the more creative one, had quickly placed dibs on them when she'd brought back with her from the mainland a few weeks ago.

“Isn’t it hard for you to see Virg? Turn the main light on.”

“Nah,” Virgil replies, hunting around the drawer for his charger. “I prefer it this way.”

“You’ll strain your eyes if you keep drawing without more light.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, triumphantly pulling a dark lead from the drawer. Even when John was so many miles away in deep space, big brother mode never stopped.

“Fine, I’ll just stop drawing then.” With the tablet charging Virgil leans back in his chair, satisfied. “What have you been reading all this time?”

“Ah well,” John starts, glancing down at the book. “It’s a book about mythology. Japanese mythology, to be precise.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. John has always read books that make everyone else’s head spin but even so, this is somewhat different from what he had expected. Usually his books are about the facts of deep space or human history; huge books with thick leather covers, full of beautiful pictures to illustrate each particular finding. Mythology isn’t so different to some of the books he reads but it comes as a surprise to him all the same.

“Yeah? Why the interest?”

“It’s just fascinating I suppose.” John runs a hand across one of the pages, touch lingering as he reaches its end. “I was particularly interested in reading about some of the gods. Did you know that some people believe their gods of death, Shinigami, are the ones who decide the moment you die?”

Virgil looks at John closely, somewhat alarmed at the sudden turn in conversation.

“I was unaware,” he says slowly, studying his older brother carefully. Taking in the way he now clutches the book, knuckles slowly turning white, tired eyes and pale face looking intently at some spot above Virgil as if desperately trying to looking at him directly. 

"John..."

“Are you alr—”

“You know,” John interrupts loudly, causing Virgil’s eyes to widen in surprise. “Ryuu wondered why they picked such a violent death for him. “They pick the moment” he told me “but surely they are aware of the circumstances too.””

“John listen—”

“What kind of hateful god would choose to make a 12 year old die in such pain? Alone, talking to someone who was so – so unhelpful, so far away, who had nothing to offer him but empty words and promises?”

“Don’t say that. You did what you could John. You did everything you could.”

“It wasn’t enough!”

John reaches for the screen, turning it off before Virgil realises what’s going on. Virgil sits up so quickly he almost falls out of the chair, fully alarmed.

“John?! John!!!”

The only response he gets is the sound of choked sobs behind the black screen.

Virgil heart aches for his older brother, wanting so desperately to be able to reach out and pull him into his arms.

“Listen, Johnny, please listen to me.” Virgil sits closer to the tablet, as if somehow that makes the physical distance between them any less. “You did the best you could. You did the best of all of us – you gave that boy hope. You kept him calm. John you were fantastic. There’s nothing more you could have done.”

For a few moments nothing happens, the silence only broken by sniffles and shaky breaths. Virgil waits patiently, giving John the space he needs. When he’s finally calmed down Virgil hears a quiet thump, as if he’s thrown the book on the floor, before he shuffles in his seat.

“I just wish we could have gotten there in time to save him. To save all of them.”

“So do I,” Virgil replies. “I always do. I know you do too. But Johnny – this is how it always is. We knew it was going to be like this from day one. We lost lives today, but we saved so many more.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” John says quietly. Virgil says nothing, silently in agreement with his brother – the way that boy’s mother had sobbed helplessly on the ground would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Especially when you’re stuck here in this tin can,” John adds after a moment. “You know I can’t – I can’t be useful. Really useful. I want to be down there so much, doing something. Anything. And when it ends I can’t swim it off, or smash keys on a piano or lift weights until I pass out. I can’t run anywhere. There’s nowhere to go.”

Virgil takes a minute to formulate the appropriate words for a response but before he can say anything, John goes on.

“You know, it’s after calls like this that not even the stars can help me.”

Well. Virgil has no idea what to say to that, knowing the feeling all too well. He sighs, wishing more than anything that he could be with his brother right now.

“I know,” is all he eventually manages, desperately trying to think of something more helpful. “Listen; why don’t we switch your shift for a while, get Brains up there? He’s itching to get his hands on some of the circuitry to upgrade it.”

John contemplates the idea for a moment. “I dunno Virg. I don’t want to put anyone through extra hassle.”

“It’s not,” Virgil replies quickly. “It’s no big deal. I just think you should be with us right now, is all.”

“You think so huh?” John sighs softly, shifting in his chair. “I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“Johnny – I’ll take you to Brains and ask right now, you’ll hear for yourself. It’s fine. Just – please come home so we can work through this together. I don’t want you to do it alone.”

The tablet screen suddenly brightens before settling into an image of John, elbows propped up on the surface in front of him, hands on both sides of his head. Still, he smiles softly at his younger brother.

“Thanks Virg.”

Virgil smiles back. “Get packed. I’ll go find dad.”

“W-what? Now?!”

“You heard me Johnny boy!” Virgil stands from his chair, stretching and grabbing the tablet in one hand. “You better do it fast or I’m telling Scott – and I’m sure the last thing you want right now is a mother hen breaking the sound barrier to get to you.”

That has them both laughing, John shaking his head in mock exasperation.

“Alright, alright. Please spare me from Scott. I’m going now.” He stands, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, and Virg?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”


	3. Perfect Piece [Music/Virgil, Jeff]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lucille died, Virgil’s reaction was the last thing Jeff had expected.

When Lucille died, Virgil’s reaction was the last thing Jeff had expected. 

Quite simply – there hadn’t been a reaction. He was quieter, more withdrawn, but there had been no tears, not the broken hearted wailing he’d had from his youngest. Jeff often waited silently in the corridor in the nights following; partly out of being unsure what to do with himself but mostly knowing that his eldest ones would reserve their tears for bedtime. He couldn’t allow that – couldn’t allow them to grieve alone. Not at this age. 

But for Virgil, there was nothing. A few sniffles, coughs during the night, but nothing else. Nothing to physically indicate the pain Jeff knew he was going through, as much as the rest of them were. 

It frightened him. Jeff had been ready for a reaction. He didn’t know how to deal with nothing. 

Soon enough the day of the funeral arrives and still, there's nothing. As his mother walks away with the two youngest in each hand, John and Scott arm in arm behind her, Jeff approaches his middle son, crouching in the gravel beside him. He places a gentle hand on Virgil’s shoulder, studying his son’s face as the boy gazes blankly at the gaping hole in the ground, the piles of dirt on each side waiting to be thrown haphazardly across the polished black box that held his mother. 

“Virgil.” Gently steering his son to look at him, Jeff cups his son’s cheek. “Alright son?” 

Virgil nods but there’s no emotion. He reaches for his father’s hand, moving it from his face and holding it in a tight grip. Jeff offers him a small smile before standing up and glancing at the grave of his wife one more time. 

Hand in hand the pair walk away, Virgil’s grip tightening with every step. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t until much later in the day that Jeff had a moment’s peace to himself. 

He sits down heavily into his office chair with a groan, sore and tired. All five boys are tucked into bed, Alan and Gordon having conked out almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Pouring himself a generous amount of whiskey Jeff leans back into his chair with a sigh, rubbing a hand across his face. The pain and emotion of everything bears down on his shoulders like physical weight, desperate to be released. 

But he doesn’t feel ready – not yet. He barely knows how to think straight, let alone express his feelings.

As he raises his glass silently in Lucille’s name, he hears faint music. Sitting for a moment with the glass poised in mid-air, Jeff strains his ears to pinpoint the source of the noise. It hasn’t been uncommon for him to imagine soft piano notes after his wife’s passing, as much as he still feels her presence besides him when he goes to bed at night. This time, he realises after a few moments, it isn’t imaginary at all. 

Someone is playing the piano. 

Reluctantly, Jeff put his glass on the desk and makes his way out of his office, music growing louder with each step as he walks to what his wife had lovingly called “the creative room” – piano in one corner, walls patterned with intricately painted constellations, shelves of books and pots of pencils lining one of the walls, boxes of Lego stacked on the other side.

The door is ajar. Jeff pushes it open slightly more and takes a sharp intake of breath as he sees Virgil at the piano. Of course it was Virgil. Who else could it have been? He’d been Lucy’s protégé from day one; sitting next to her for hours on that stool to watch the way her fingers glided smoothly over the keys, committing the notes to memory.

Jeff watches quietly from the door, Virgil so intensely focused on his work that he hasn’t noticed his father’s arrival. His fingers glide along the keys with ease, hitting each note in perfect time. Dimly Jeff registers the tune; something Lucy had been teaching Virgil for weeks now, something he’d been struggling to perfect. 

Yet now, there was nothing about this that wasn’t perfect. The way Virgil is able to keep up with the tempo of the song is perfect, from quick repetition to slow, prolonged notes. He moves fluidly, not missing a single key. He’s strong, he’s graceful and every note holds such emotion, played out plain as day on his face as his expression shifts from sheer determination to joy to pain – such pain that Jeff feels his heart break as he watches his son begin to crumble, powering through the song as tears stream down his face. 

Jeff feels tears of his own gently sliding down his cheeks, reminded so vividly of his late wife sitting behind those keys and the way her music floated through the house day-by-day, light and peaceful. 

Abruptly, not quite at the end, the music finishes. Virgil clenches his hands into fists across the keys, looking at the floor with a sob. Hastily brushing away his own tears Jeff dashes into the room, quickly kneeling and bringing his son into a close embrace, holding him close as his body wracks with sobs. 

“I miss her dad,” Virgil cries. “I miss her so much.” 

Jeff simply pulls him closer, rubbing his back. “I know son. I know. I miss her too.” 

When Virgil calms, Jeff loosens his grip and shifts backwards, placing both hands on his son’s shoulders. “She would have been proud of you for such a wonderful performance. When you miss her, remember; she’s here. Right here.” Jeff places a hand over Virgil’s heart, which the boy covers with both of his own. 

“You promise?” 

Jeff leans forward to kiss his son on the cheek. “I promise.”


	4. Fish Out of Water [Ocean/Gordon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is the first day Gordon will attempt to swim following his horrific accident. Virgil wouldn't miss it for the world.

Virgil whistles at the sight in front of him – an Olympic sized swimming pool, overhead lights glistening like tiny stars across the surface. Gordon stands right by the edge, glancing down into the water with an unreadable expression. 

“You alright Gords?” Virgil asks, approaching the edge of the pool and glancing sidelong at his little brother. Gordon nods.

“I’m alright.” Virgil can hear the uncertainty in his voice, no matter how well Gordon tries to hide it. But he lets the matter drop for the moment, looking out across the water. 

Today is the first day Gordon will attempt to swim following his horrific accident – something the doctors had been certain would mean he wouldn’t be able to walk ever again. 

Gordon had refused to believe that from day one. Virgil remembered the start of his physiotherapy; the expression of sheer pain and frustration on Gordon’s face as he clung so hard to the support rails that his knuckles turned white, angry tears streaming down his face as he cursed under his breath, desperately struggling to stand – a task so easy, so taken for granted by most. He could hardly believe how difficult it was. 

Still he had persevered, moving from being able to stand alone to wobbling his way along the support track. Soon enough – much to the disbelief of his doctors – Gordon was walking slowly down the hospital corridor, Jeff waiting for him at the end and Scott following him carefully; far enough away that Gordon felt independent but close enough to help if he fell into trouble. 

Now here he stands, a little over nine months later, on the edge of something which had once been so familiar. Swimming has always been his release, a way of working through whatever he’s feeling, but now he isn’t so sure. Virgil knows this well enough – he can see it written plain as day on Gordon’s face. 

“So.” Sitting on the edge of the pool, Virgil dips his legs into the water. “How do you want to do this?” 

“I dunno Virg,” Gordon murmurs, joining his brother on the cool tiled floor. “It used to feel so easy and now… I’m not so sure. I don’t know where to start.” 

Virgil nudges him before slowly immersing himself into the water. Adjusting to its temperature (thankfully far warmer than he thought it’d be), he turns himself around and leans his forearms against the edge of the pool, looking up at his brother. 

“Well, you won’t know until you try huh?” 

Gordon takes a deep breath and nods, mirroring his brother’s actions. Once fully in the water he glances down at himself as if in shock, watching as the movement of his hands make ripples in the water. 

“Let’s keep to the shallow end,” Virgil suggests. “This space is easily wide enough to do laps.” 

_As if the shallow end is shallow at all_ he thinks, paddling to keep afloat as it is. Still, it was far easier to support Gordon at 6.5 feet depth than at almost 10. 

Gordon nods in agreement, relaxing his body to float along on his back, gently paddling away from Virgil. 

For the first 15 minutes they simply play around, floating along carelessly and splashing each other with water. This settles Gordon, getting him used to the feeling of being back in the water after such a long time. Virgil grabs two foam noodles from the edge and tosses one neatly to Gordon, engaging in an instant war. 

“Alright, alright!” he declares after a few minutes, swiftly dodging the vibrant orange noodle that swings towards his head. “You win! I surrender, I’m out!” He raises both hands in defeat, chuckling as the younger man grins triumphantly at him. 

“Heh, you never could beat me at this.” Gordon stretches the float out underneath his arms, lying in such a way that it supports him as he drifts along the surface. “You wanna do some laps now?” 

Virgil swims to one side of the pool, float tossed carelessly aside. “Ready when you are. Try not to go all Olympian on me though. You know I tire out way faster than you do.” 

Gordon snorts, throwing his float out from underneath him. “No promises Virg.” He joins his older brother and the pair of them get ready, one hand gripping the edge behind them and both feet flat against the wall ready to propel themselves off. 

“Ready… set… go!” 

The pair set off, Gordon steaming ahead like Virgil knew he would. As much as he tries to match Gordon’s pace he simply can’t keep up – his younger brother was practically raised in the water, obsessed with it from the moment he’d taken his first swimming lesson. Years of vigorous training lay behind him, bundles of trophies and even an Olympic gold medal to his name – a testament to his incredible skills. 

After what feels like at least an hour to Virgil but in reality is something like 5 minutes, he pauses for breath mid-lap. Gordon carries on, slicing through the water with ease. Virgil watches as he speeds to the end of the pool, landing his feet hard against the wall and pushing off to swim back the way he came. He comes to a stop as his gaze lands on Virgil, still trying to catch his breath. 

“You okay Virg?”

Virgil chuckles, giving his brother a thumbs up. “Not as good at this as you are Gords.” 

Gordon laughs, shaking his head before swimming across to his brother at a slower pace. 

“You can sit it out if you want. I’m fine.” 

Virgil shakes his head. “Nah. I said I’d do it with you and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Gordon smiles at his older brother, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Softie.” He glances out across the rest of the pool with a soft sigh. 

“You know this feels just like coming home. I’ve never felt anything more natural in my life.” 

Virgil smiles back at his brother. “Now who’s the softie?” That earns him a splash of water to the face to which he quickly retaliates, the pair of them soon descending into a full on splashing war. 

Thus the rest of their time in the pool is spent fooling around and laughing, laps long forgotten.


	5. Intruder Alert [Heroes/Tin-Tin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tin-Tin comes to Virgil's aid when an unexpected, very unwanted visitor makes an appearance in his room.

Virgil stands completely frozen in the doorway which connects his bedroom to his bathroom, staring in utter horror at a small space in the middle of the carpet. 

There, wandering along peacefully as if it owned the place, was a spider. 

One of the worst aspects of living on a tropical island is by far the manner of creatures which live alongside them. Virgil would never forget Grandma’s ear piercing shriek as she left the villa to relax on the beach, only to come face to face with a very colourful tropical lizard. Much to her dismay that particular incident quickly became a favourite dinnertime story – one which Gordon often recounted with additional theatrics and details, arms waving around all over the place as the drama intensified each time. 

Virgil could handle lizards. He could handle the weird and wonderful butterflies that floated around. He could even handle some of the longer bodied creepy crawlies; those simply fascinated him. How something with so many legs managed to function would always remain an amusing mystery to him. 

What Virgil could not handle, however, was spiders. 

He watches in horror as the wretched creature trundles along, now climbing up his desk. Virgil has half a mind to simply remove the towel from his waist and smack it but there’s no way he wants to move remotely close enough to it to be able to do that. What if it retaliated by jumping back and he lost it, inevitably only to find it again late at night or somewhere he really needed to get to? What if it scuttled away and wound up under – or worse, on top of – his bed? Good gracious, _what if it touched him?!_

Frowning deeply at this unwelcome visitor, Virgil practically tip toes to the door of his room, walking against the wall so as to keep as far a distance from himself and the spider as possible. It stops mid-climb, almost as if surveying Virgil’s movements and anticipating what this strange anxious human will do next. Upon closer inspection of it Virgil almost faints – now that he truly looks at it, long legs and thick hairy body resting against the side of his desk, he can see how monstrous it truly is. 

_Yuck._

He reaches for the door, ready to dash to John’s room to beg his older brother for help. He would suck up the teasing from Gordon for years if he had to but there was absolutely no way he was getting rid of this thing on his own. 

A knock to the door causes him to jump violently, losing his grip on the towel as it pools around his ankles. 

“W-who is it?” 

“Virgil?” Tin-Tin calls out softly from behind the door. “I have the new medicine your father wants you to take and I brought some tea for you to try with it. Can I come in?” 

“Uh y-yeah of course Tin, just a minute.” Virgil reaches for the towel, throwing it around his waist and making sure it’s tucked in tight. He smooths his hair back, double and triple checking the towel. Though his wardrobe is on the other side of his room, various piles of spare clothes lie around on the floor – but all of those things mean passing by the eight-legged terror and Virgil has no intention of doing that anytime soon. 

Fortunately, everyone on the island has spent enough time by the pool to have passed half-dressed awkwardness long ago, so neatly tucked-in towel is fine for now. 

Satisfied that everything is in place Virgil opens the door for her. She smiles sweetly at him, tray delicately balanced in her hands as she breezes past him to place it onto the desk. At the sight of the spider she gasps softly, it still (thankfully) being in the same position. 

“Oh what a nasty little thing!”

Virgil watches in a mixture of amazement and absolute horror as Tin-Tin _picks it up by the legs_ and crosses the room with it, opening the balcony doors wide and throwing it far over the edge. She brushes her hands off, turning back to Virgil with a smile. 

“It will have landed somewhere in the shrubbery I’m sure; some other creature will have at it before it ends up anywhere near here again.” Her warm expression turns to one of bemusement as she registers the shock on Virgil’s face. 

“Don’t tell me you were afraid of it?”

“W-what?! N-no, no don’t be silly of course not, I wasn’t afraid it just, well it just caught me by surprise is all and—”

Tin-Tin laughs, covering her mouth with a hand. “Oh Virgil. You silly thing.” 

Making her way back through the room she offers him a cheeky smile, resting a hand against his shoulder as she looks up at him. Virgil feels himself grow warm under her touch, his cheeks turning a light pink – something that only makes her smile grow wider. 

“To think, one of International Rescue’s heroes is so afraid of something so small. Let’s hope there’s no spiders in the way during a future rescue,” she says playfully, patting his shoulder before leaving the room, the sweet scent of her perfume lingering behind her. 

Virgil had never felt so embarrassed in all his life. But hey – at least the towel stayed on.


	6. I've Got Your Back [Brothers/Alan]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brothers have to stick up for each other. Young!Tracys.

Jeff stands sternly in front of his youngest son, arms crossed. Young Alan hops nervously from foot to foot, chewing on his bottom lip as he is utterly scrutinised by his father. 

“Alan Tracy, I am not going to ask you again. I want to know what happened to Grandma’s vase, and I want the truth.” 

“It was me.” 

Alan spins around at the sudden noise as Jeff looks up, narrowing his eyes at Virgil. His middle son steps in through the doorway and crosses the room, stopping in front of his father and staring at him almost in defiance. 

“I did it. I accidentally knocked it off with my schoolbag.” 

Alan gawps at his older brother in disbelief, eyes wide. Jeff frowns. 

“And you thought it was okay to walk away from that? You thought it was acceptable to leave it damaged without apologising and owning up for that action?”

Virgil shrugs, seemingly indifferent to the punishment he's almost definitely about to receive. “Didn’t know I broke it.” 

Jeff rubs his forehead in irritation. Virgil stands his ground, rocking lightly back and forth on his feet as he waits for the inevitable hammer strike. 

To his and Alan’s surprise, it doesn’t come. 

“Your room. Now.” Jeff looks sternly at Virgil, the boy momentarily stunned by his father. Still, he turns and makes his way from the room, dashing up the stairs and closing the door to his bedroom with far less force than Jeff had expected. Now his attention turns again to his youngest son, still staring in shock at the space where Virgil had stood not a moment ago. 

“I trust you understand the severity of this situation?” 

Alan jumps, looking up at his father with wide frightened eyes. 

“I—I, um, dad I—” 

“You will speak to your brother about this and I want the truth – and an apology, to myself and your grandmother – before dinnertime. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes dad.”

“Good.” Jeff points towards the doorway. “Your room.” 

He watches as Alan stumbles away, thundering up the stairs towards his shared room with Gordon. Jeff pinches the bridge of his nose. What was he going to do with those boys of his? 

“Don’t you think you were a little hard on him Jeff?” His mother stands in the doorway just behind him, connecting the spacious living room to the kitchen. She holds a large bowl of dough in her arms, stirring it gently. “It’s just an ornament. I can replace it.” 

“It’s the principle mother,” Jeff replies. Grandma tuts. 

“Well, at least you know they look out for each other hmm?” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Upstairs, Alan paces his room. Gordon’s at a friend’s house for a sleepover, a rare occasion which means he has the entire space to himself. Rather than embracing this as he normally would, spreading every toy car he owns across the floor and sending them crashing into each other, he instead continues to walk in a single line from one end of the room to the other, chewing his lip anxiously. 

Why would Virgil take the blame for something he hadn’t done? Virgil had lied and now it would be him who was disciplined; probably not allowed to play his piano beyond general practice lessons or grounded so he couldn’t see his friends outside of school. The thought makes Alan stops in his tracks, wringing his hands together as he glances nervously towards the door. He has to do something. He has to _say_ something. 

He bolts to the door, slamming it open with unnecessary force and running full-pelt down the hallway and into his oldest brother. Scott raises an eyebrow, stopping Alan in his tracks. 

“Allie, what have I told you about not looking where you’re going?” 

“Sorry Scotty.” With that Alan shrugs out of Scott’s grip, continuing on to Virgil’s room and knocking on the door. Scott watches his youngest brother in surprise but says nothing else, only shaking his head as he carries on down the hall. 

Alan hears papers being rustled before heavy footsteps make their way to the door. When it opens Virgil glances down at Alan in amusement before moving to one side, gesturing for the younger boy to come in. Alan makes a beeline for the bed – Virgil’s bed is always comfy, covered in blankets and spare hoodies and far too many pillows for his own good. This irritates Grandma to no end and she often chastises Virgil for it but the teen pays no mind, simply throwing everything into the closet when she inspects his room only to throw it back out again as soon as she leaves. 

“What’s up pipsqueak?” Virgil asks, shuffling across to his desk to place a stack of papers back into their folder. His latest project is a particularly difficult piece of music, something he’s been working on for a while now. Virgil can often be found sitting at the piano, frowning at his hands in disapproval as if willing them to move faster. If not that then he's in his bedroom poring over the music sheets hoping that the more he studies over them, the easier it would become to play. 

“You lied.” 

Virgil turns, papers held in mid-air as he faces Alan. 

“You – you knew it was me who broke the vase but you told dad it was you! Why Virgie?” Alan looks up at his older brother with genuine curiosity. “Why would you do that?” 

Virgil smiles softly at the use of the childish nickname, something Alan still has no intention of dropping despite being just shy of 10 now. 

“Why does it matter?” 

“B-because!” Alan stammers, standing on the bed. “Scotty wouldn’t do that – he tells me to never lie. Johnny too! It’s not fair to lie right? That’s what they would say.” 

Virgil shrugs, clipping his music into the folder and placing it back onto the desk. “Well I’m not either of those two.” 

“Of course, it’s not okay to lie most of the time,” he continues, wandering over to the window and gazing outside as it starts to rain. “But we’re brothers right? So it’s okay to lie sometimes, for brothers.” 

He smiles back at Alan. “I got your back kiddo. Dad can be kinda mean about this stuff but I don’t mind.” 

Alan simply stares at his older brother for a moment, too awestruck to say anything. Then he bounds off the bed, all but charging at Virgil as he wraps his arms around the older boy’s waist. 

“Thanks Virgie. You’re a real hero.” 

Virgil places a hand on Alan’s shoulder, bemused, and uses the other to ruffle his hair fondly. 

“Anytime.” 

After a minute or so Alan pulls back, looking up at Virgil in determination. 

“But I think… I gotta tell dad the truth though. I don’t want him to be mad at you.”

“Yeah?” Virgil looks down at his baby brother, arms crossed. “You sure?” 

Alan nods his head vigorously. “I’m sure. I’m gonna do it right now.” 

“You want me to go with you?” 

“Nah.” Alan smiles up at Virgil. “It’s okay. I’ll just come back after, if that’s okay?” 

“Sure.” Virgil ruffles Alan’s hair again, the younger boy pouting at the action as he then attempts to flatten it back out. 

“’k. I’ll see you later then.” Alan turns and dashes back out of the room as quickly as he came in. Virgil smiles, throwing himself onto the bed and listening to the sound of heavy rain lashing against the window. 

A knock on the door alerts him to the arrival of Scott, who pokes his head through the door without waiting for a response. 

“Was real good of you to do that Virg.”

Virgil shrugs. “It was nothing. Besides, we gotta stick up for each other right?” 

Scott smiles proudly at him. “Yes we do.”


	7. Memories [Change/All]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and the boys reminisce as they clear out their Kansas house, preparing for the move to the island.

Putting the last suitcase in the boot of his car, so full the zipper is practically about to burst open, Virgil stands back and admires his handiwork. He was hardly the neatest packer – that title belongs to John, who arranges everything so meticulously in and outside of his own space that even shifting the slightest thing out of place is immediately noticeable to him. 

Still, this isn’t so bad. Virgil feels he owes himself some credit for the fairly decent job. He arranges the last items – two small boxes and a bag – around the suitcase, playing tetris with everything until it all fits snugly. Satisfied with the final arrangement he slams the boot and locks the car before making his way back into the house, gravel crunching beneath his feet. It’s a warm and stuffy day, distant clouds threatening rain later on – something Virgil and all of his brothers would welcome with open arms. 

Gordon looks over from his perch on the coffee table, smiling broadly as Virgil comes through the door and makes an immediate beeline for the water bottle next to him. He hands it over and Virgil takes it gratefully, drinking almost all of the water in one go. 

“Look at it this way – at least you’re getting a good workout huh?” Gordon says, watching the way his older brother makes quick work of the water before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah,” Virgil replies, crumpling the plastic bottle in his hand and tossing it into the makeshift bin against the wall opposite. “Could do with more of a breeze though.” He sits down on the table, Gordon budging up slightly to allow him more space, and brushes his fingers through his hair. 

“If someone wasn’t watching me like a hawk, I’d offer to do more.” Gordon frowns, stretching his legs out in front of him. As if on cue that particular someone walks out of the kitchen with three large pieces of wood in his arms, muscles straining with the weight as he carries them towards the front door. 

“ _Someone_ doesn’t want you to wind up back in the hospital,” Scott retorts, moving one hand further back to better support what he’s holding. He makes quick work of carrying the pieces outside, tossing them into the large orange skip in front of the garage. As he comes back inside he looks at Gordon sternly, brushing his hands against his jeans. “You know the doctors told you not to over-exert yourself Gords. It’s not even been a month since you’ve been out.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Gordon waves a hand dismissively at his oldest brother. “No heavy lifting, no running, no gym, I got it all the first hundred times. I’ll make sure not to breathe too hard while I’m at it.”

Virgil snorts at the sarcastic remark, looking sidelong at his brother in amusement. “And here I thought you liked being told what to do.” 

Scott sighs, shaking his head. “You’ll thank me later when you don’t have to spend another few months in the hospital.” He adjusts his shirt, pulling the collar away from his neck, and makes his way back to the kitchen to remove more pieces of wood that had previously been the kitchen table. 

Virgil stands up, stretching out his arms. “I’ve still gotta go through all the old boxes that were in the old playroom, the ones that were under the piano. Wanna come?” 

“Beats sitting around doing nothing,” Gordon replies, following suit and standing. A pair of crutches lean against the wall behind him and he takes them both under one arm, determined as always to get along without them as much as possible. 

The playroom has been mostly emptied; the Tracy’s grand piano is already well on its way to the island and all the old bookshelves and cabinets had been dismantled and thrown into the skip yesterday by Scott, who had taken on most of the handiwork with his father. All that remained were various differently shaped boxes, filled with all manner of papers no doubt – old school awards, letters, postcards, brochures for different summer camps. Virgil didn’t expect to find anything particularly useful in any of the boxes but they needed filing through all the same. 

He drags an old stool from next door – a spare bedroom that Grandma had used when their father had been away – and pointedly places it next to Gordon, indicating that his younger brother should sit down. Kicking some of the boxes across to the stool he opts to sit cross-legged on the floor, opening the lid to box number one and peering inside. 

“You’d think Grandma would’ve thrown a ton of this out before,” Gordon remarks, eyebrow raised as he looks over the stacks of paper crammed inside. Virgil nods in agreement, pulling out an old poster at the head of the pile. 

They work steadily through each box, Virgil handing half of its contents to Gordon so they share the load. Most of what they find is put into rubbish bags, simply being old letters or junk that they hadn’t wanted to let go of as children. Some things they keep: a few drawings, a stack of letters between John and an old penfriend, birthday cards from various childhood best friends or family members. 

As Virgil pulls the top off the final box, exterior ripped and crinkled with use, he gasps softly. 

“What?” Gordon asks, craning his neck to get a look inside. “What is it Virg?”

“Mom…” 

Virgil reaches inside, pulling out a set of photographs of their late mother; photographs of her with her own mother, with Jeff, with them as tiny children. Gordon takes them when offered, drinking in all the details. 

“What else is there?” he asks, placing the photographs carefully in his lap. 

Virgil rifles through the contents. “Letters, between her and dad it looks like. A couple more photos, an old… journal?” He pulls out a small blue book, the cover faded with age, running a finger gently along the spine. 

“What you guys looking at?” comes a voice from the doorway. Turning around Virgil sees Alan leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he looks on curiously. 

“Just going through old stuff,” Virgil replies, placing the book back underneath an old pile of letters and taking the photographs from Gordon’s lap, extending his arm as he offers them to Alan. “We found some stuff of mom’s.” 

“Mom?!” 

Alan darts into the room, sitting next Virgil as he looks at the photos intently, smiling softly at one of his mother with all the boys. 

“You fellas all done in here?”

“What kind of timing is this?!” Gordon exclaims, laughing as he looks up at his older brothers now entering the room. “We find the good stuff and now everybody turns up?”

Scott opens his mouth to retort but stops as soon as he catches a glimpse of what Alan’s holding, kneeling down behind him and looking over his shoulder. 

“Where did you find these?”

“In here.” Virgil gestures towards the last box. “There’s a bunch of stuff in here between mom and dad, or stuff that’s just hers.”

“I wonder why it wasn’t one of the first things dad took,” John mused. 

Virgil shrugged. “It’s not like he’d have left it. I guess he probably just didn't realise it was here; he hasn’t been back for a while.” 

The five sit in silence a moment, photographs passed around between them. A loud knock against the front door brings them all back to reality. 

“Boys?”

Scott stands and heads out to greet their father, John following close behind. Virgil places the photographs back in the old box and puts the lid back on, scooping it up in his arms and placing it on top of the pile of things that are to come with them. He, Gordon and Alan then follow their older brothers in leaving the room to see their father, who greets them with a warm smile. 

“So, are we all done here?”

“Mostly. There’s still some things that need taking out from upstairs but everyone’s packed, right fellas?” Scott looks back at his brothers, who all nod in agreement. 

“Good, very good.” Jeff smiles proudly at his boys, eyes crinkled at the corners. “You make sure everything is brought down in the next hour or so and then we’ll find dinner someplace hm?” 

“Yeah, sure thing dad.” 

Almost immediately the five return to work, Gordon and Alan wandering off to their old shared bedroom while John, Virgil and Scott remove the last pieces from their own rooms. 

Virgil makes sure the box of his mother’s things is top of the pile in his tetris-packed boot, safe from being bumped around or damaged. This move to the island will be difficult – more difficult than any of them expect, atleast Virgil thinks. The radical change in both atmosphere and career will hit them hard during the first few weeks.

But he knows in spite of everything to come, the bond they share and the memories they take with them will sustain them through it all.


End file.
